


Homeward

by Mareel



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Andorians, Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-25
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-27 14:36:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/980067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mareel/pseuds/Mareel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Restless</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homeward

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place approximately seventeen years after the launch of _Enterprise_. Jonathan is serving as a Starfleet admiral and Malcolm has been on a mission to an undisclosed location to meet with Andorian General Shran, traveling on a small Andorian ship. It is in parallet to [Among Fallen Leaves](http://archiveofourown.org/works/980065) and is Malcolm's voice.

 

Normally I can sleep anywhere, given a spot to rest my head and enough of a feeling of security to risk closing my eyes.

Safety isn’t an issue here. I’ve been working closely with security and weapons specialists in the Imperial Guard on this mission and am impressed with their skill and attention to details. 

The quarters I’ve been assigned on this Andorian cruiser are small, but functional. The bed would be too short for Jonathan, but is fine for a man of my height. Of course, if Jon were here, he wouldn’t let the size of the bed keep us from being together. Just imagining the creative solutions he would find brings warmth and a smile. 

However, the walls curve sharply, lowering the clearance over the bunk enough that I bump my head if I sit up too quickly. 

Last night, lying on the edge of sleep, I noticed a striking resemblance to a half-closed torpedo casing. I’ve spent plenty of time around torpedoes, their launch tubes, casings, and payload components. Crawling through torpedo launch tubes was all in a day’s work, and I never thought twice about it. 

But much of that work was before the Expanse, before torpedo casings found another use… as coffins. Closing those covers for a last time isn’t something I can easily forget, and what I felt last night was almost a flashback to those dark days. 

I hadn’t realized I’d developed a touch of claustrophobia, but it’s the only explanation I have for my insomnia on this trip.

Other than the loneliness.

 


End file.
